


Antarctica

by trollmela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Season/Series 06, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-20
Updated: 2010-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollmela/pseuds/trollmela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The devil was colder than the Antarctica and not even Michael was enough to burn through the frozen layer of ice which settled over Sam’s soul. Now, Sam’s looking at Dean, knowing he should feel something but all he feels is cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antarctica

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written after I’d seen episode 6.05. I never expected to hit so close to Sam’s condition and you can imagine my shock when I saw “You Can’t Handle the Truth”. The story takes place before episode 6.06.
> 
> Since this was written so long ago, there will be factual errors concerning Sam's stay in the cage which were only revealed in later episodes.

Sam was cold. Neither all of the covers in the world, nor a blast furnace could warm him. There was no fire warm enough to melt his ice. The cold was something he always felt and never went away. He didn’t feel less cold when he was in a heated room; he didn’t feel colder when he spent his nights in whatever run-down, abandoned ruin of a house the Campbells occupied.

The first week that Sam was out of the cage, he was literally shivering and he had to make an effort to keep his teeth from chattering constantly. At first, he had attempted to warm himself. He had turned up the heating as far as it would go, taken as many covers as he could find and buried himself underneath a whole mound. It was utterly useless of course.

The devil himself had admitted that he was cold. He had frozen a window pane in front of their eyes. But being near him was nothing to having him inside. Sam had never been to the Antarctica. But if he had to guess, then the devil was probably even colder than it was there.

Being with him in the cage was ... not like hell. Whatever Dean knew about hell – the cage wasn’t hell. It was inside hell but different. It was being in a cage with the Devil and an archangel. There was no physical torture in itself which was not to say that there was no torture at all. Lucifer knew him too well, Sam found out. It was a child’s game for him to make Sam see things which made him wish for an end to his existence. And then there was the eternal cold permeating from the inside out.

Not even Michael, who was not bound to earthly limits in the cage and burned hotter than any biblical desert, who fought against Lucifer in an eternal battle which rarely ceased, was enough to burn through the layer of ice surrounding Sam. Though Sam doubted that Michael had ever actually tried.

The cold did not leave Sam when he escaped the cage. It froze not only his body – something he got used to after a few months – but also his soul, and, with it, his every emotion. He found himself incapable of associating with feelings and he felt separated from everyone else. He knew he should feel relief that Bobby was alive. He knew he should feel anger that Castiel wouldn’t answer him. He knew he should feel betrayed when he realized that Samuel was keeping secrets. But he felt nothing.

He had thought he would know warmth when Dean had wrapped his arms around him. Sam had smiled then, only to realize that the smile was merely an automatic reaction, a façade, and that in truth he felt nothing more than he usually did: cold.

He tried to recall every emotion he had once felt for Dean: love, admiration, even adoration when he was younger, anything he could think of. But they were only words to him now. He even attempted to summon hate and anger when all else failed, but they would not heed his call either.

And so he turned into a perfect hunter while observing life merely through a window. He fooled those around him with mere imitations of anger, joy, regret and sympathy. Creatures fell by his hand, their blood splattered his face and hands, and he noted with what would once have been disappointment that he could not feel its warmth. He did his job but he showed neither remorse nor care for others. Saving Dean from the vampire was only a brief thought before he saw the opportunity to finally test the old family recipe.

Even before that incident, Dean seemed to have noticed that something was off. His brother looked at him with concern as well as suspicion, but Sam didn’t answer his questions about the cage. He would rather leave his memories where they were: under a layer of ice as cold as the Antarctica. Sometimes he wondered whether his emotions were also there.


End file.
